


Lure

by Halrloprillalar (prillalar)



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, SASO 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prillalar/pseuds/Halrloprillalar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sendoh's phone is off again. Rukawa will only allow himself one mail before he snaps his own shut."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lure

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for SASO2016 Bonus Round 3: Gift Tags. It was prompted in error, because Slam Dunk isn't on the list of eligible fandoms. So I filled it quickly, before anyone noticed. Because it's Slam Dunk. <3
> 
> Package: long, slim, brown parcel. surprisingly light  
> From: Sendou  
> To: Rukawa  
> Note: I'm not running away from you, man. Just come join me sometime.

Sendoh's phone is off again. Rukawa will only allow himself one mail before he snaps his own shut, because he doesn't care, he doesn't fucking care.

He picks up a ball, heads out to his bike, rides to the outdoor court. Practises three-pointers with the sun in his eyes, with his phone in his pocket, tight against his hip where he'll be able to feel it buzz.

This is where they play, sometimes, the slap and bump of one on one, Sendoh laughing at Rukawa, flicking him between the eyes, wheeling past him for one more basket, one more game.

Rukawa takes a hundred shots, hits sixty-three. He buys a drink from a vending machine, stands in the shade and wipes sweat from his forehead. He wraps his hand around his phone but he doesn't flip it open.

He switches to free-throws, then lay-ups; it's like walking in his sleep, like breathing. He stands at centre court, bouncing the ball and listening to its dull ring against the cement, while the heat of the day presses on him and sweat runs down to sting his eyes.

His phone rings. The volume is turned too loud and he presses on it with one hand. The vibration spreads up his arm and across his belly. He waits for it to go to voice mail. Then he dashes up the court, launches himself, and slams the ball home, swinging from the rim while the backboard creaks.

+

"You should answer your phone." Sendoh steps back to let him into the apartment.

"You should turn yours on."

Sendoh flicks Rukawa between the eyes. Then he puts one hand on the back of Rukawa's neck and kisses him, his tongue pushing at Rukawa's lips until Rukawa opens his mouth and grabs Sendoh's shoulder. Sendoh takes a step and Rukawa follows, turns, pushes Sendoh's back against the wall. 

"You stink," Rukawa says. 

Sendoh runs his thumb along Rukawa's lower lip. "I've been gutting fish."

"Bastard." Rukawa pulls away but Sendoh follows up and takes one more kiss, both hands full on Rukawa's face.

"Stay for supper?" Sendoh asks. He goes to the sink, picks up a knife.

Rukawa doesn't answer but he sits on the floor and watches Sendoh's hands as he cooks, wonders, like he always does, when Sendoh studies, when he practises.

"I'll come out and play with you tomorrow," Sendoh says.

+

Two days later there's a package, long and thin, with a scrawled note Rukawa doesn't read, because he doesn't care. But on Saturday he leaves the basketball in the corner and takes the rod down to the dock.


End file.
